Night Terrors Alone Make You Reach For The Phone
by canibeyourotp
Summary: Jay/Tim oneshot. Slightly slashy. Jay's been having nightmares, because obviously sleep is a big issue. (I've been thinking a lot about Entry #67.5 recently... Does it show?)


Sleep is obviously a big issue.

Jay's been jolted awake before, of course he has. Screaming, eyeless college friends; tall men in the woods, dragging him back through the forest floor; reaching out to friends, only for them to turn around. Masks fused to their faces. Smiling at him, grabbing at him—

There are a lot of nights when he wakes up after these. Usually, he's sweating, and shaking, and he checks the room rapidly, checks the clock to see how long he lasted in unconsciousness Usually, he's not surprised to see the display read '4:00AM'. Usually, he gives his camera the once over to ensure he's alone, and that it's still working.

Recently, events like this haven't been usual.

Ever since he and Tim started to share hotel rooms to cut down on costs, they've developed a sort of routine - one stays awake, working on whatever the latest cryptic message from the ToTheArk channel is. Or perhaps they'll review old footage. Generally, it's anything that they can busy themselves with, whilst the other person catches some rest.

Jay's rest is hardly that at all, however. The first time that he has a nightmare in their shared room, his frantic searching means his eyes land on Tim, who's got one arm over the office chair and is leaning back. The TV is tuned to a news channel, softly reading out headlines. His laptop casts a soft, white glow over the desk (and over Tim, whose silhouette should make him jerk with terror, but actually comforts him a little).

Tim looks… concerned. "You okay?" he questions, unblinking.

Jay tries to peel his fingers away from the sheets, forcing himself to relax his clutch. "Fine," he chokes. "Definitely fine…"

Tim doesn't look convinced, but mutters something that sounds like "if you say so," and spins back around to continue whatever it was that he was doing. Jay shuffles about a bit until he's lying on his other side, and he attempts to go back to sleep, hoping he hasn't embarrassed himself too much.

—-

The second occurrence is not nearly as unpleasant at the first. He doesn't even remember the dream. But he still wakes up with adrenaline coursing through his veins, eyes snapping open to see…

"Tim, what the hell?!"

Tim's standing over his bed. His hand was outstretched, as though he was going to wake him up, but now both of them are flinching away from each other. Jay flails so hard that he tangles himself up in the sheets, somehow managing to propel himself off the edge of the bed.

"What are you _doing_?" Tim asks, taken aback.

"I wake up and you're looming over me like you're—"

"—I'm not anything, Jay, I was just gonna see if you were alright!"

"Well, don't be creepy then!" Jay retorts, feeling childish as he picks himself up off the floor.

This approach feels fairly reasonable, but apparently it's set off Tim into one of his annoyed moods. He watches, expression stony, whilst Jay flings down the bedsheets in frustration.

"Look, I'm sorry. Okay? I was just… freaked out, I guess, I don't know."

Tim glares at the floor for a moment. To Jay's relief, he shrugs. "…It's fine. I get that it might have been creepy. You were… Uh. Making weird noises in your sleep, is all."

"Noises?"

He can feel his eyebrows raise, and hopes to high hell that this isn't what it sounds like.

"You know when a dog sounds sad?"

"Oh god," he grimaces, bringing a hand up to his face in a terrible attempt to hide himself. Whimpering is definitely worse that what it sounded like.

Tim cracks a smile at Jay's embarrassment. "As long as you're okay, I s'pose…"

—-

The third time is by far the most horrific occurrence.

When Jay wakes up, he actually sits bolt upright, grasping at whatever he can hold onto. Like he's trying to keep himself on the ground.

What he does manage to claw at desperately is fleshy, and move to accommodate the sudden movements. "Jay," Tim keeps on repeating, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Wake up, damnit, you're safe! There's nothing else here, I swear—"

He doesn't think he can get enough air into his lungs. "I thought I'd lost you," he gasps, holding onto one of Tim's arms with both hands. "I thought you left me—"

"I'm not gonna suddenly turn against you," Tim reassures him seriously, hands solid and warm upon his shoulders. Comforting reality.

"I know _that_," Jay says, "you were _dead_."

The urge to cry proves too much, triggered by the sheer terror and upset caused by the nightmare. Jay bursts into tears.

He expects Tim to freeze up, or move away, but instead, he awkwardly shushes him and looks him straight in the eye. "Dead my ass," he says firmly. "There's a pyscho on the loose and you think I'm gonna leave you? Like hell I am. You wouldn't last a day."

The humour is appreciated. Jay buries his face into Tim's shoulder, and cries, and cries, and cries. Tim even drapes an arm over Jay's back, in response to the way Jay has wrapped his own hands around Tim's middle. He's clinging on, half-conscious, waiting for the cruel moment of truth where Tim is ripped away from reach.

—-

The moment never comes.


End file.
